


War Games : Enoch Version [Traduction]

by Eatares8



Series: Short Stories in English [4]
Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016), Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
Genre: Apocalypse, Attempt at Humor, Bored Enoch, Bronwyn - Freeform, Claire - Freeform, Destruction, Fiona - Freeform, Gen, Horace - Freeform, Humor, Millard, and that's all I think, mentions of Hugh, olive - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eatares8/pseuds/Eatares8
Summary: Living the same day again and again can be pretty boring after a few decades. When it's Enoch who needs distraction, chaos isn't far away !Another traduction of one of my french works published yesterday. There may be some mistakes, sorry for that. Otherwise, enjoy ;)
Relationships: Enoch & His Homunculi
Series: Short Stories in English [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814401
Kudos: 9





	War Games : Enoch Version [Traduction]

**Author's Note:**

> That's not really important, but I use the powers Emma and Olive have in the movie.

An apparently enraged tea-pot passed at barely two centimeters of an exasperated Emma to go crash into the opposite wall, splashing it with parts of badger heart, fox heart, or some other kind of animal organs it could be.

A sigh escaped to the young blonde when she imagined the reaction who would animate Miss Peregrine at her return.

Their ymbryne, governess and nearly foster mother was a comprehensive person, sure, and she accepted relatively well the potentiel misconducts caused by the deep boredom felt sometimes by her sheltered.

Living the same day again and again during a century and more became pretty tiring by moments, and the need for distractions made itself felt strongly afetr a few decades.

However, there is limits to everything, and dozens of furniture to replace, stairs and windows to repair, as well as an incalculable number stains due to blood and other animal fluidsto make disapear, was without a doubt a level of destruction tresspassing the said limits by far.

Indeed, today was one of the worst overflows that Emma had seen until there. Olive, well, she had already set a part of the rooftop on fire, Fiona grew a giant bean stalk in her bedroom, Horace sowed panic at the village by predicting their deaths in atrocious suffering to the majority of the inhabitants (with many details) … while Millard – that little perv – took advantage of it and walked around naked in order to take a look under girl’s skirts ! How scandalous !

Hell, she herself was not left out with her failed attempt to clean up the house with flying ustensils ending with the collateral damage of a poor Bronwyn stuck to the ceiling, tearing off parts of it with her when they had managed to get her down.

But now, the young blonde could say that none of them had ever seen a bored Enoch, probably for their greater good given that he was visibly the worst of them once in that state.

All began like any other normal journey in the loop, as normal as any journey can be with peculiar children, and their appointed necromancer was once again reclused in his laboratory-like room occcuped with making old creepy dolls fight each other in a suffocating atmosphere.

Alas ! In his opinion, these little duels were not grandiose enough, not glorious enough, not bloody enough, and a way bigger spectacle was needed, there had to be war, Apocalypse. Or, in a clearer formulation, Enoch had suurely woken up that morning and thought something like ‘ _I will make homunculi with a lot of hazardly stolen objects, then I will create armies and make them war on a big scale … I am a genius ! Hahahah ! ..._ ’

Consequences : on the first floor, mannequins were repeatdly hitting a plush squad with blunt objects, sending various smelling liquids splashing around while weird tableware assemblies swirled on the ground floor and sowing shards of glass everywhere on their trail …

The garden itself was the theater of an epic battle between some pigs of the village reanimated to face giant and _living_ plants which had been mysteriously stolen from Fiona and animated in an unknown manner.

All of that without mentionning the numerous secondary duels happening around the same instant at several points of the island, and the fact that none other peculiar tried to stop anything because they were all too occupied at protecting themselves from stains and slimy materials, or at crying on their lost plushies like Claire who would later be very enthusiastic at the idea of biting the responsible.

Enoch, him, that cunning and sadictic guy who was too satisfied of himself walked peacefully, visiting the different battlefields and sometimes adding new soldiers to his armies while smirking every time he saw one of his ‘honorary brothers and sisters’ run by where he was. Of course, he was the only one to never be touched by any drop of goose grease or to collect bits of ripped off hearts on his clothes. Poor Hugh, whose bees were unfortunately attracted by some of the smells !

_Miss Peregrine will definitely not be happy. What a euphemism !_ mumbled absentmindedly Emma, dodging for the umpteenth time a random object about to fall on her, not to late for her dress, but her hair not avoiding  an undead pigeon’s droppings which crashed on her curls.


End file.
